The interpreter’s face was a study; the American’s words were evidently unexpected; he glanced uneasily at the viceroy as if fearing the storm which he knew would break forth when the sharp words were translated into his guttural tongue. After a few moments of thought, during which time the old mandarin blinked his watery eyes expectantly the interpreter spoke, hesitatingly and as one who is not sure of his ground; but instead of the burst of rage which Phil felt was inevitable, the old statesman nodded his head in assent. The lad saw Langdon rise to his feet and speak in an undertone to Commander Hughes; then the Chinese mandarins grasped the arms of their heavily carved chairs with indignation and horror while the pilot’s voice in their own tongue rang out loudly, in direct address to the viceroy. Then he turned to his captain and explained his action. “The interpreter did not give the viceroy your words, sir,” he said, his voice quivering with emotion. “I thought it best that he should know.” The parchment-like features of the aged mandarin were stamped with hatred as he snapped out his reply to his attentive interpreter. “His Excellency is much disappointed at the unfriendly attitude of the foreigners,” the Chinaman announced after the viceroy had ceased speaking, “and is grieved to hear their harsh language.” Again Langdon’s voice was raised above the silence which followed the placid words of the interpreter: but this time in English. “Those were not the viceroy’s words,” he exclaimed turning toward Commander Hughes but glowering at the discomfited interpreter; “his answer was a threat against our lives.” Commander Hughes was on his feet instantly, his face pale with anger. “Langdon,” he cried, “tell the viceroy that our meeting is ended; that we came to demand punishment for those of his countrymen who attempted to injure our mission on the hill back of the city, but as he refuses to keep to his country’s treaty, we shall be forced to resort to arms to protect our own people.” Langdon promptly translated Commander Hughes’ words to the viceroy, sitting craftily observing the incensed foreigners. Chang-Li-Hun was too clever a diplomat to show his hand was against the foreigners; he must appear to aid them in their endeavors to protect their countrymen, and by the art understood best by the Oriental he would make these naval men “lose face” in the Chinese eyes, and thereby show his people that the vainglorious boasting foreigners were but human, and could suffer and die as easily as those of their own race. A few guttural words escaped from the lips of the aged mandarin, which Langdon translated at once, not waiting for the unreliable interpreter. “The viceroy begs you will again be seated; he says he knows nothing of the acts against the mission.”